What's In A Name
by theoncomingfandom
Summary: He wears a badge with his name written on it. It's a silly little thing and he can't help but roll his eyes every time he has to pin it to his chest when he gets within twenty feet of Torchwood Tower. Pete's World. Tentoo/Rose


**Author's Note: **I wrote this because I've read fics where Tentoo goes by the name _John Smith _in Pete's World, even by Rose, and for some reason, that never seemed to sit right with me. This is how I think Tentoo would feel about that.

* * *

He wears a badge with his name written on it. It's a silly little thing and he can't help but roll his eyes every time he has to pin it to his chest when he gets within twenty feet of Torchwood Tower.

He grumbles and groans, _'I don't understand _why_ I have to wear the stupid thing. Everyone _knows_ who I am!'_

And she merely replies with an appeasing smile as they walk hand in hand. Her hand fits in his just the same is it did that first day in a shop cellar in another universe, just the same as it did that first Christmas night standing beneath the falling ash of a burnt up ship, and the same as that first day on a beach as she said her last goodbye at the same time she said her first hello.

She's heard his complaints time and time again. Sometimes it's about how ineffectively toasters work in this century or how rubbish the human immune system is, or how the chips just don't taste _quite right_ in this universe.

It's the little things, the mundane things that he's had the hardest time adjusting to. But in this universe with this body with one heart, he had the chance to start anew. With that came the technicalities of living a human life like creating a history with paperwork and just a little bit of forgery.

Back home he's got a birth certificate much younger than the age he pretends to be (and much _much _younger than his _actual_ age) with the name '_John Smith'_ written in slanted swirling font and he's got a driver's license and few credits cards to match. To new friends and acquaintances that is how he introduces himself these days, but every time he does he can't help but cringe at how the consonants and syllables feel wrong as they roll off his tongue. Sometimes if he's not paying attention he'll find himself saying, "Hello, I'm the-", but stops with barely enough time to correct himself.

At 906 years old, he's lived many lives but none have been harder than this one, this life, the one with one heart beat, the one with the blood of thousands (maybe millions) on his hands, and the woman who dared to cross dimensions for him by his side.

Sometimes he feels like he's lost himself living in one place for longer than a week, with another man's title and history. And _she_ knows it too.

She sees it sometimes in the vacant look in his eyes as he looks at the night sky like he's not seeing the lights and how they shine, but rather the surface of another planet, remembering the creatures in that corner of space as he saved them from some unknown terror. She sees the flash of wanderlust in his eyes for just a moment before it dwindles away with his (somewhat) reassuring megawatt smile (and she knows that look because there was a time when she wore the exact same expression). She sees the subtle but heartbreaking look on his face whenever someone calls him '_John_'. Which is precisely why she avoids using that name at all costs.

In the very beginning she struggled with even entertaining the idea that this was still the same man she traveled through all of time and space with, the same man she fell in love with. She couldn't possibly be that lucky, could she? But in time she quickly learned that she _was_ that lucky and was finally given the chance to live her life out with him and _he_ could live out his with her.

There _were_ differences, but they were slight. He seemed to laugh a little louder, argued a lot more (often throwing in the word _oi_ or _wizard_, when she couldn't recall it being a part of his vocabulary before) and if the sunlight caught his hair in _just_ the right light, she was absolutely sure she was able to see a reddish tinge to the strands.

But he was still very much the same man in how he took his tea (milk with a _lot_ of sugar), how he rambled nearly every second of the day, most especially in the mornings (despite the fact he knew she was not a morning person in the slightest), and he still tugged on his ear and fidgeted when he was anxious or uncomfortable. She knew he was very much the same man in how his hand fit in hers exactly how it did years ago when he had a different face and wore lots of black and leather. She saw it in his eyes, how he still looked at her like she was the most brilliant and beautiful thing in the multiverse, regardless if they were pale blue or warm brown or if he had two hearts or just the one.

She knew he was exactly the same man and reminded him of it often in how she would make him cakes with edible ball bearings. She'd make sure his favorite shirts and ties were clean, the ones that were _just_ like the ones he wore with his brown pinstripes, because she knew he didn't feel quite like himself without those pieces of his armor. And she made sure to use his name often, not the one given to him in this universe, but the one he earned hundreds of years ago in another universe, on a planet with silver trees and red grass.

She uses his name when she asks him what he wants for dinner or what he thinks about a new blouse she bought while she was shopping with her mum. She uses it like a swear when they scream and curse at each other when one (or both) are being foolish. And she whispers it like a sacred prayer in the night as their share the same breath, and express their love for one another passionately.

She uses his name to not only remind him that she knows he is the same man, but to remind _him_ he is the same man.

So, when he began to work at Torchwood she saw the light return to his eyes, shining brightly with curiosity, as he tinkered with gadgets and translated alien texts. It was the same madness she would see in his eyes when he looked upon a creature or object that was completely brand new to him, the same look he had as he gleefully zipped around the TARDIS console, banging and flicking buttons and levers as they flew through the time vortex to an unknown world. It was the same gleam he got in his eyes when he knew he had done some good for someone somewhere in the universe. It was that light that showed he was still very much the same man, living up to his namesake, _helper, healer_, despite the mistakes he had made.

So when he began working at Torchwood she made a special request with their colleagues on his behalf.

He wears a badge with his name written on it. It reads, _The Doctor_, as it rightfully should.


End file.
